Ricky (2009)

I have another recommendation for you.

It was not until 38 minutes had gone by that I thought I had figured out what genre the movie Ricky (2009) was.  But I was immediately wrong.

If you like French movies, you might hate this one.  It's French but it's more like an American movie too.  If you like American movies, you might hate this one.  But if you like both, maybe you'll like it too.

The characters held my interest for the entire time.

The flashback at the beginning and the music threw me, but I think it was intentional.  On IMDB.com people were trying to figure out what the movie means.

It's just a good story, I think.

You could look at the events from the standpoint of each of the main characters and it still doesn't make much sense.  It's the story of some people.  And people don't really have this particular thing happen to them, but people don't make sense either.

Enjoy.

I feel like I know these people.  Don't they live just down the hall?

Help, Somebody Call 911. There's the Same Old Thing Going On Here.

So I'm trying something in this blog post.  I'll write it and then I'll title it.  That probably will work better since let's admit it, neither of us know where it's going yet.

I haven't liked pop music for about 2 and a half decades.  Well, ladies and gentlemen, which might as well be me, since I'm the writer and the reader- I like pop music again.  I turn the presets from station to station and although I'm older than I've ever been, I don't spend all my time looking at the music of today and wondering what's wrong with those pesky kids who buy this junk nowadays.

In 1972 or thereabout, I became aware of pop radio.  I'm not sure which songs were the first I heard, but I distinctly remember Dolly Parton's Jolene, Lynn Anderson's I Never Promised You A Rose Garden, some version of Locomotion, Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown and I think Simon and Garfunkel's hit that sounded to me just like the theme from H.R. Pufnstuf "kicking at the cobblestones and feeling groovy."  I wonder which songs are actually from that time and which have settled there just in my memory.

Just now, I heard the song 911 with Mary J. Blige and Wyclef Jean for the first time.  I haven't been listening to pop radio, or should I say current radio that isn't Christian (gasp) so I don't know how long it's been out.

It's easy for a generation to slip into cynicism as they leave the demographic focus group deemed more important, and to look down upon those pesky kids and decry their taste.  But Mary J. Blige can do no wrong.  As an artist, she is the real deal.  My favorite artist these days is Diana Ross, sounding better than she did in 1967, now at the age of 71.  She's beautiful, she's without peer and she's a movie star who hasn't made a movie in a long time.  She is America's diva.  Mary J. Blige is on her own way, and does things in her own way.  But when I first heard her Christmas album with orchestra, I knew.

If you can hold your own with an orchestra, you have something there that may be different than what we may have once thought.

The song itself says that she told the police her lover wasn't there but because this is the kind of love our parents warned us about, they need to call 911.

This sentiment isn't new.  It's usually sung by twenty year olds though, who want the security of living in a secure society but don't want to have to follow its rules.

When I was 8 I would play cowboys and Indians without thinking one was better than the other.  The term Indian wasn't yet inaccurate or racist.  I didn't know how stupid a term it was.  But many words change their meanings and become stupid.  Why is this America, because somebody thought there was something here once, but never came over here?

We played cops and robbers with the same equanimity.  We didn't think of one as being moral and one as being immoral.  We needed to take a side so we could have teams and play a game.  We needed opposing sides to have a narrative from which to build our play.

As teenagers, and I don't think either of these singers qualify, which I find wonderful, we flaunt the rules we used to take for granted.  We've heard the warning but want the forbidden love.  We flaunt the law when it's time to be honest with the police or pay our taxes, but we want 911 to be available should we need it.

Cynicism Here in the Promised Land (2012)

It's real easy to be cynical.

People basically don't talk.
They say whatever they can think of to convince the other person that they're the one that's right.


People basically don't listen either.
They hold their tongue as well as they can while the other person is speaking, and instead of listening; use that time to think of what they'll say next to convince the other person that they're the one that's right.

This adversarial slant to communication is why I don't like to talk to anyone.  It used to not be this bad.  I used to not want to fight.  I remember being a kid in Westgate of all places and some bigger kid tripped me on purpose on the way home from school.  I was distraught when I dropped my books but proud of myself that I walked away without giving him any satisfaction of confrontation and didn't encourage the situation to escalate.  I knew he didn't have a good reason to trip me.  He wanted to be mean.  And I knew that I didn't have any good reason to try to hurt him or to get more hurt myself.  I was proud to walk away from a fight. And real happy not to have any type of injury or additional pain.

Now I see and feel the fight in every conversation so I don't want to do that anymore.

Remember Beefaroni/Beef-O-getti?

I always thought the 1970s commercial said "Beefaroni, Beefasketti, Beefaroni, Beefasketti.  Do you want to fight?

No, I want to siiiiiiing!"


And that's what I want to do.


We have entire tv channels devoted to getting us to vote in one direction or the other.  Objectivity was never anyone's goal in mass communication but we used to pretend that it was.  We used to pretend that other people were the ones with propaganda and we were just telling it like it is.

And so it was with the desire to find a narrative to escape into rather than to be sold anything that I approached viewing the film Promised Land (2012).

It's a movie about fracking.

It's not really a movie about fracking, but rather what one does with what one thinks.  But let's just say it's about fracking.

Is a movie about fracking a place one might go to find respite from being told what to think?

I don't know anything about fracking.  But I know that I've heard much about it that could convince me that I know something about it.  It has to be evil, right?  It sounds evil.  I wonder who made up that word; someone who espoused the process or someone who crusades against the process?

Let me guess.  It sounds fracking horrible, doesn't it?

Whoever coined the term was probably a fracking genius and that word itself will probably be enough to determine the fate of its namesake.

  Between Pro-Life and Pro-Choice which term was used the most?  Surprise, that side won!

      Between Marriage Equality and Marriage Integrity which one was used the most?                                     Surprise, that side won!

Have you ever noticed the difference between the generic name for drugs and the name that they're sold under?  It seems to me that the marketable name is used by the company.  That's understandable.  They want to open and close the commercial with some name that sounds nice before and after the 10 minute listing of side effects.  Some of these drug names have such a nice ring to them and if you didn't know what they were you might think they'd make a good nick-name or a name for your next puppy.

If you didn't know what it is, Chlamydia sounds like the name of the cute check-out girl down at the corner grocery.  I think her sister's name is Phyllis something.  Oh no, it's Si-Phyllis.  That's it.  Right.  Yup, that's her.  We know her.


Those companies- I guess it's those companies, I don't know- use longer harder to pronounce names for the generic version that they won't make any money from.  Who would buy Grotsingraphitimininideperoxican if they could buy a bottle of the same thing in a pretty package called something nice?

Maybe these are the scientific names.  I don't know.  But if they're trying to get you to buy something, they go to the trouble of making it look and sound real nice.

That's what we're sick of.  Being told that every choice we make is either real nice or the worst choice ever that will end life on this planet.

Take fracking.

When I saw who made the film I assumed that they were some liberal Hollywood types who never had a real job who left their coasts to come to Middle America and make fun of the locals and tell the whole world how evil fracking is.

Then I realized that I don't really know the politics of these Hollywood types.  Maybe they're part of the vocal Conservative Hollywood minority wanting to save the movie industry from the devil.  Maybe they're trying to tell me that fracking isn't that bad.  You either like fracking or you like the devil, right?

Maybe they're trying to make a good movie.  I'm so jaded I couldn't tell.

Beautiful Kate (2009)

It's very easy for me to equate beauty with goodness.  But those are clearly two different things.  Sometimes it seems as if movies are designed to convince us that beauty is good.  Even when the hot evil person comes along, we can usually tell their morality with a glance at their face.

You know, their eyebrows are crooked and their face isn't as symmetrical as the hero's.

Or like Jeannie and Samantha, they've put on a black wig and a look of naughty glee.

This just really isn't the case, in reality.  You really can't tell the villain by looking.

"What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness!" says Tolstoy.


This is a beautiful movie.  Beautiful Kate is a beauty.  The director said that the story, taken from an American context and moved to an Australian one, reflects the isolation of farm life.  I am so surprised to disagree with her on this important point because I found the movie to be so good.  It's really good and you should see it; but only if you're an adult.

I think the movie is about the individual and it doesn't matter where it takes place or even into what family a person is born.  Inside each of us there are good and bad things which may or may not be beautiful. Sometimes sad is beautiful.  Sometimes good is boring.  Sometimes the picture is more beautiful because it's not on kilter.

I didn't find anything boring about this film.  But I like this kind of pace.  I like to be drawn in to characters and I was.

In most stories, the hero is good and good-looking.  But in reality those two qualities collide sometimes and disagree sometimes and lead into all kinds of directions.

I think Ned's propensity for younger women, or even the desire for woman after woman might be considered morally neutral by many people today.  But there's some other stuff in this film that we all agree on could not be right. But where exactly should one draw the line?

I'm glad to see Maeve Dermody has many roles coming up from IMDB.com.  I thought she was great from the minute she put her feet up from awakening in the backseat, which we could only see in the rearview mirror, until she disappeared down that long dusty road.

I believe it would be easy to dismiss her character.  But she's perfect.  She's smart and she's really dumb. She's forthright.  She's great.  When do we ever see a character be forthright?

Once a boss told me I was the most forthright person they had ever met.

So I guess I like that quality and I know that I value it.


Rachel Griffiths is always good.  But I can't see her as Australian because her American accent was so good on Brothers and Sisters when I first saw her.  So whenever I see her sounding Australian I think for a minute how good she is at the Australian accent, before I remember she is Australian.

Have you ever heard an American sound Australian convincingly?  Me either.  But the Australians can surely speak like us.

The photography and the editing are masterful in this film, along with the music.  A contributor on IMDB.com said the film was excruciatingly good.  I agree.  Having no idea where the story was going, I was totally drawn in by the transitions between the present and flashbacks and found it to be a great story.  I kept the film on purpose in order to watch it again about two weeks later, and this time, knowing exactly what was going to happen, I noticed more of the masterful craft involved in a fine piece of film.  The one particular scene that for me and for most watchers that was most significant could not have been edited more perfectly.

Beautiful.  And terrible and awful and somehow, normal.

Conductor Chris Confessore Knocks it Out of the Park at Disney's Epcot

I knew something was different.

I've heard these arrangements.  I've sung these arrangements.

But from off the side of the stage, near one of the huge fire torches that surround World Showcase lagoon, at about torch #9, some wonderful difference in the music caught my attention and I looked up.

From that point, waiting in line for the next show, I tried to figure out among the chatter and my people watching, without a good eyeline toward the stage, what was different about this night.  Yes the lights twinkled off the lake and the breeze was slightly cool and the night was perfect.  Yes the choir was all there and the Disney magic was working its wonders with the greatest story ever told.  But I've been here before. What was different about last night?

I realized it was the conductor.

I have been intimately familiar with the music of Epcot's Candlelight Processional at Walt Disney World since the early 1980s.  Rock Hudson was about to become a national celebrity again, but we were just high school students and he was just a guest narrator hamming it up for us in a big warehouse way behind Pirates of the Caribbean and I was just glad to be behind the scenes at the happiest place on earth.

The Candlelight Processional has been doing its thing since the 1950s at Disneyland.  And here I was, a small part of it with my battery operated candle in the same building where floats hide until they can become part of the Electrical Light Parade once the magic needs to be kicked up a notch when darkness descends over the Magic Kingdom.

Since then, I've seen many performances at Epcot.  This one was my third this week.  Over the years I've seen it many times and like to list the celebrities I've heard read the story.  I always try to figure out who was the best, as if a reading from the Bible or the recitation of One Solitary Life (not a part of the show this year) should be taken as a contest.  I think it was Ashley Judd.  Yep, even with her namaste bows to the crowd she was probably the best.  She was so sincere.  Jim Caviezel may have been more sincere, but I think she was just better.  He gets the prize for most exuberance.  He could hardly hold back.  Maybe he meant it more than most, or not, but he did a great job too.  This is high praise for both of them considering the amount of star power I've been exposed to narrating this same show.  It's a company of high quality- much better than Circus of the Stars or its Dancing update.

Congratulations Chris Confessore, the conductor, for putting the finishing touches on the music in such a way that I actually noticed the conductor for once.  It's always professional and it's always very good.  I'm not sure exactly what you did differently, but I noticed it before I heard your name or realized that we had been students of The Florida State University School of Music (now the College) at the same time.

Epcot's Candlelight Processional takes place under the stars with a wonderful set of carols and other Christmas songs featuring choir and orchestra in masterful arrangements that are simple and utterly good. You have to hear how the men and women alternate in What Child Is This? just a little unexpectedly, with phrases of various lengths taking the simple melody to its height.  It's indicative of the whole show.  It's a crystalline distillation of the genre that is nearly perfect.  And every once in awhile a leaf falls from the trees above and startles an audience member.  Kids stand up and sway with abandon and play orchestra conductor spontaneously.  Generally parents let them as they're too tired to worry about their reputations at the end of a long walking day.  Maybe the parents are enraptured with the sound, or too tired to protest.  It's a great venue. The lighting may be the best feature of the show because unless you've been there many times, you don't even notice its intricacy.

If you don't know Jesus, this show is a nice introduction.  The lady next to me the day before yesterday simply stopped watching for a moment, put up her hand in quiet praise and spoke to Him for a minute in the middle of the show.

Last night, the orchestra was having so much fun that every once in awhile they slipped- sorry brass section for calling you out, but you sounded great, not perfect- as they would if they were playing like they meant it. At FSU once, a student asked Robert Shaw which was better in a musician, technical proficiency or emotional connection.  He said they were the same thing.

I don't think that's true.  And it's not just because I've never been technically proficient.  I'm very glad to have heard the same music, a little differently last night.  It was wonderful.

It was Disney.

It gave us a glimpse of the truth behind the glitter.



Thank you Chris.

One Solitary Life

Here is a man who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another village. He worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty. Then for three years He was an itinerant preacher.

He never owned a home. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never had a family. He never went to college. He never put His foot inside a big city. He never traveled two hundred miles from the place He was born. He never did one of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but Himself...

While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves. While He was dying His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had on earth – His coat. When He was dead, He was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen long centuries have come and gone, and today He is a centerpiece of the human race and leader of the column of progress.

I am far within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, all the navies that were ever built; all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has that one solitary life.

This essay was adapted from a sermon by Dr James Allan Francis in “The Real Jesus and Other Sermons” © 1926 by the Judson Press of Philadelphia (pp 123-124 titled “Arise Sir Knight!”). If you are interested, you can read the original version .

The Rich Young Ruler

I've encountered the story of Luke about the man who asks Jesus what he needs to do- three times in the past week in three different venues.

Upon this reading it struck me that the man was very sad because he was extremely rich.

And I thought about unhappy rich people in this world.  We're all rich, according to biblical standards.  If you have time to read this without worrying about what you're going to eat next or where you're going to sleep tonight, you are what they would have called rich.

Why was it harder for the man to give up everything because he had a lot?  I understand that if he had a lot he would be giving up a lot.  But if he had little and was asked to give that up, wouldn't the result be the same?  He'd be a man with nothing and yet everything.

If I only had a dollar would it be easier for me to give it away than giving away what I actually have?

Christmas Radio

For years I've wondered why I want to break into song in a completely inappropriate way in certain places when hearing White Christmas.  And tonight I found the answer.  I heard the version by The Drifters, and it's great.  And what they do in the song- "I, yai, yai, yai'm dreaming... of a white Christ-ma-as" is perfectly appropriate with that genre of 50s style pop rock.  But I could never understand why I wanted to do something like that when hearing Bing Crosby.  Thank you Orlando radio for clearing that up for me.

Today I also heard Steve Lawrence and the woman with the best name in show business- Eydie Gorme. Happy Holidays has to be one of my top favorite Christmas duets; but I don't think they say the word Christmas.  My favorite is Andrea Bocelli and Mary J. Blige singing David Foster's version of What Child is This and also heard today; Faith Hill and Josh Groban's The First Noel- rounds out the top three.  Baby It's Cold Outside is one of the best duets ever- and I love Ann Margret and Al Hirt's version, but I love Johnny Mercer and Margaret Whiting also, and others too.  I can't hear Ann Margret coo without going right there. It's hilarious and hits me every time.  But I guess the other three are more musically artistic.

Steve and Eydie are a match made in heaven, and the other two are matches made only during Christmas. Faith and Josh share the same restrained drama and only veer from the melody just enough.  Mary J. and Andrea take that ancient melody to a whole new and old place at the same time.  I love it.  

First Candlelight Processional 2015

Tonight I went to Epcot's Candlelight Processional for the first time this year.  I don't know how many times I've heard basically the same setlist, but I think it has been scientifically designed.

Sometimes there's a noisy crowd and sometimes I've been more tired than others, and sometimes "when they saw the star, they rejoiced with great joy" seems more tacky than others, but the whole thing gets me every time.

It's really nice to be able to drop in for a few hours after work and see a quality show, or just walk around the lake.  The Christmas decorations are up, and I like how everything looks that way, and then when those things are gone, it's a nice change back to "normal" after the holiday look is over.

I'm glad I can't really remember every detail of the things I like about it, and that one by one remembrances hit me and I'm simultaneously reminded and slightly surprised.  Tonight I noticed the herald trumpeters, and wondered if they sound different than a shorter trumpet.  It seems like the sound travels in a more focused way and that you can tell which one is playing, unlike when a trumpet is part of the orchestra and you might see where the sound is coming from, but it fills the whole auditorium.  Are they louder than a normal trumpet, or just longer so they look more Medieval?  The high notes at the end of some of the songs were beautiful as always, whether by soprano or violin.  The songs don't seem too short or too long.  I'm sure the whole thing is too old-fashioned for some, but it really seems deliberately balanced to appeal to the most people as possible.  There's not too much text.  There's room for a little humor if the narrator wants it.  And then of course there are the drunk people drinking their way around the world.

Every time I go to Disney there are familiar things and new things, and there are so many things that there are things I may have never noticed before.  I remember working at Animal Kingdom and sometimes being all alone somewhere walking through the park, and then I could really notice details and I literally noticed something new every single day.  There are so many little touches.

Tonight there were a bunch of loud drunk guys in the bathroom.  And one was cursing, which is kind of rare for Disney.  When I got out of the restroom some of the drunk guys had joined some of their drunk girls and one of them was kicking a soccer ball through the crowds of people walking by.  Even her drunk boyfriend didn't think that was the best idea.

I was struck by how unslippery the surfaces were as I walked quite a ways.  I didn't even start to slip although it was the kind of slow rain that makes floors slick.  I noticed one father cautioning his little girl not to slip, but instead of interpreting the situation as dangerous, she was thrilled that the floor had become somewhat like an ice skating rink.  What kind of world would it be if we all more often interpreted things that way?

The rain started again and a few of the audience scurried away, but most sat still and paid attention in the seated area, even with no awning or ceiling out there underneath the stars.  Standing in the back, loud twenty-somethings were talking a lot about not being able to take pictures that were close enough.  They weren't watching the show much, but talking about it and looking at their phones and telling each other to be quiet.  I know people talking through a performance happens quite a bit, even when they like it.  And this is hard for me to understand, but there it is.  Some people mind visual distractions and/or audible ones more than others.

I think when I'm old I won't be able to go to a concert or a movie without earplugs.  The twenty-somethings have listened to their headphones so much that the volume in public places will be unbearable for someone who hasn't.

I sat in the rain, on the side, with no one behind me to distract me with their chatter, looking at the lake and the fires and the lights to my left and the great show in front.  I remember another time, being soaked through watching Epcot's night show including Let There Be Peace On Earth, glorying in the narrative and the truth behind the glitter.

For unto us, a child is born.

Helen Mirren Tries to Hathaway

When I watch an old movie from the 40s or 50s and see a famous star who I've gotten used to over the years supposedly depicted as ugly or shy or plain, it doesn't quite work.  One of my favorite movies is Now Voyager with Bette Davis.  She is probably the best actress on film, but of course she's a little stylized and not everyone's cup of tea.  There was a difference then between stars and their public that we've bridged in the subsequent decades.  We don't have pictures of Bette that are designed to show how normal and real she can be.  And everything she did was staged and looks like it.  The concept of reality tv, which isn't very real, wasn't on the radar.  People didn't share with the world pictures of their lunch back then.

In Painted Lady (1997) Helen Mirren plays a retired? hippie with a nose ring.  Don't dismiss the film just from that.

Look at this great shot which one can appreciate whether or not they know the reference.

As the retired? hippie, Ms. Mirren decides to change her look and change her clothes and cut her hair.  She didn't take off a pair of glasses and turn around in a circle like Wonder Woman or Oh Mighty Isis, but she did try to Hathaway.  I watched I Dream A Dream again with the Oscar winner and I love it.  But let's face it; if you cut your hair on camera it's a gimmick that worked.  For the remake I suppose the actress will have to remove her front teeth on film as the character does.  Anne hathaways in every movie, but it's not her fault. Why can't we just start with the assumption that she's a gorgeous talented woman?

I guess that will come in a decade or two.  For some reason people need to be either hot or talented; except for Helen Mirren.

I see Helen Mirren now as ageless.  Was she playing someone in Painted Lady who was past their prime who managed to be hot?  Was she trying to go from slovenly to sophisticated, or was it beautifully eccentric to beautifully polished.  I can't tell.  Was she playing not sexy and then hathawaying to sexy?  At a certain point, a star is a star and although I can enter the world of the movie, I can't really see Billy Bob Thornton as dumb or Ernest Borgnine as socially awkward.

And I can't see Bette Davis as shy or beautiful.  She's just fabulous.  She's just Bette.

Holiday Traffic

At Thanksgiving, we were talking about driving during the Holidays.  It seems people shake their fists at each other and swerve around and slam on their brakes and have definite opinions about how others drive.  But once they get out at their destination, they're fine with letting others walk in front of them, hold the door for others, smile and say hello.

Coyotes and Other Topics Around the Table This Thanksgiving

This year there were eight of us for Thanksgiving dinner, and three more dropped by for a little while.  We talked about specific gravity, coyotes having moved in to Florida and the difference between yams and sweet potatoes.  Then we talked about the foods that are currently seen as miracle cures- that may or may not have been taken off of the "do not eat list" like turmeric, coconut oil, coffee, cinnamon, avocado and pomegranate. I suppose if we made a dish from all of it and ate enough of it, we would be able to fly and erase any bad memories or personal debt.

Christmas Music 2015

I got in the car to go home from work and heard The Carpenters singing about pumpkin pie, Bing Crosy, "I'll Be Home For Christmas" and Amy Grant's "Sleigh Ride" so now I'm ready for all of it.  Since then, Brenda Lee, The Ronettes and Nat King Cole have joined in.

There is something about revisiting music, discovering new versions of familiar songs and hearing a mix of genres that works for me.  When else will I hear orchestras and choirs, country twang and artists from the 50s until today in one playlist?

Jesus and Alexander

Jesus and Alexander

Jesus and Alexander died at thirty-three;
One lived and died for self; one died for you and me.
The Greek died on a throne; the Jew died on a cross;
One’s life triumphed seemed; the other a loss.
One led armies forth; the other walked alone;
One shed a whole world’s blood; the other gave His own.
One won the world in life and lost it all in death;
The other lost His life to win the whole world’s faith.

Jesus and Alexander died at thirty-three;
One died in Babylon; and one on Calvary.
One gained all for self; and one Himself He gave;
One conquered every throne; the other every grave.
The one made himself god; The God made Himself less;
The one lived but to blast; the other but to bless!
When died the Greek, forever fell his throne of swords
But Jesus died to live forever Lord of lords.

Jesus and Alexander died at thirty-three.
The Greek made all men slaves; the Jew made all men free.
One built a throne on blood; the other built on love,
The one was born of earth; the other from above;
One won all this earth, to lose all earth and heaven.
The other gave up all, that all to Him be given.
The Greek forever died; the Jew forever lives;
He loses all who get, and gains all things who gives.

- Anonymous -

Have You Ever...

....wanted to do something that you didn't want to do?

There is some tiny task that I do on my computer every couple days that I really don't want to do.  Yet, I'm disappointed on the days when I don't need to do it.


This is amazing to me.

Why am I ever disappointed about not having to do something that I don't want to do anyway?  The bogglings of the human mind mystify.


Somewhere once a year or so ago, I decided to have my computer automatically back up more often.  It seemed like a good idea.  The same idea is one reason why I have this blog: so if my computer wipes out I have a record of some of the things I was up to at this time- even years later, because it's saved kindly somewhere else with Google's Blogger.

I didn't notice it until several months after I set up the frequent auto-backups.  But now the drive fills up and I need to empty it or my computer gets slow, and then will have some warnings- and who knows what might happen after that- I haven't gotten that far.

The inconvenience is so minor that I haven't researched how to turn the automatic backup back to a more infrequent occurrence, yet I really don't want to have to do it, but when I go to check to see if it needs to be emptied, I feel like I've wasted my time if it doesn't.

I wonder how many tasks there are that we do because we think we should or we have to, that we really don't have to do but that we receive some sort of satisfaction from?  There are probably a lot.  People retire gladfully but then won't admit that they miss working.  People wish for Friday when it would be better to enjoy Monday and Tuesday when they roll around.  There is a satisfaction in doing something; anything, I suppose.

It reminds me of a quote by Elizabeth Taylor.

We need to do something, sometimes.  I don't drink or wear lipstick but there is a mindset of initiative and responsibility that I get an inkling of when I do some little thing that needs to be done.

Civilizations In Ruins

I like the title of the post, but realize that those who don't know about apostrophes; say, those below the age of 28, might think it means "Civilization's in ruins," which is not really what I'm talking about.  I think we are on the downward end of our civilization, yet it's not the end of the world.  Another one or two have already started to form and will rise to pre-eminence with or without me.

As the Christian age comes to a close, I reflect that the problem is that many people are and were confused that an age could be Christian.  The term is as good as any, but people can become Christians and an age never will.

What I'm reflecting on today are the ruins of civilizations long past, that took place in places that are now forests.  Huge monuments in the forests draw my attention almost as much as the pyramids in the desert.  To me, The Jungle Book reflects this idea the best.  There was obviously some huge human accomplishment, but it's been re-conquered by nature.

Here we find the ruins of immense and magnificently decorated public buildings which now stand, far away from any present human habitations, in the depth of the tropical forest.  The forest, like some sylvan boa-constrictor, has literally swallowed them up and is now devouring them at its leisure, prising the fine-hewn close-laid stones apart with its writhing roots and tendrils.

On page 80 in Toynbee/Somervell's A Study Of History, I found this great quote.  It's about the Mayans, but I picture the same process in Southeast Asia, and as having done such a great work that underneath every tropical forest there might be the same things- hidden cities of stone wrecked by the weight of thousands of years of plants.  What's underneath the redwoods, the Amazon, the Congo, etc?

The Food and Swine Festival at Epcot 2015

Thank you for the good times.  It was swill.

I loved walking around Epcot's Food and Swine Festival this year.  I saw more concerts than ever.  It's always surprising to me; the difference between live and recorded music.  I enjoy hearing the best that someone sounds and can be disappointed with a live voice, but Disney did a good job of choosing artists that sound good live.

It was a year I was impressed by voices.

I started early with Wilson Phillips, on whom I posted "The Dream Is Still Alive" earlier in the blog.  Chynna is a trip, as I knew, but I had never seen any of them in person before and it was fun.  She managed to draw attention to herself as true stars do.  She was distracted by a firefly, and seemed delighted with it as if she might want to dust on a little pixie glitter here at "Disneyland" and fly off with it, but she gamely stayed on stage and kept singing after announcing to the crowd that she has ADHD and apologizing that as a California girl she's used to going to Disneyland, not Disney World.  Then she managed to slip in an "Amen!" or two. There was the obligatory problem with the equipment and the joke about getting too close to those trying to re-hook her body mike.  They are real singers, and I'm not sure why I didn't know that, but I apologize for thinking otherwise.  I would like to request some work inspired by harmonies with no instruments.  Just put them in an acoustic chapel somewhere and "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme" it with some medieval inspired chant and long phrasing and some new inspirational lyrics.  Ladies, I want to hear you revisit some folk tunes or ancient melodies seriously as Simon and Sting do, but I think you can do this in your own way which will surprise us all.  Research song cycles and troubadour ballads and go from there.

Next, I went to see Christopher Cross and I knew from the opening notes of the saxophone that I was home; meaning by that, instantly transported back to listening to the radio when it held the most sway on me somewhere around 1978-82.  The backup singers were great.  And it was nice to be reminded that a singer-songwriter never stops even if radio play isn't current.  I liked the new song and what seems to be a true musician that doesn't do anything to court the audience but lets us in on what he's doing.

The Pointer Sisters were the standout and I went to four shows.  Too bad I have to work to eat and couldn't have made them all.  They are showmen; especially when singing Automatic.  But they are also singers.  I've seen two different lineups and I'd love to see them all on stage together- even the one they kicked out.   Ladies, why not do a gospel album?  They cross genres seamlessly anyway and could go off in many directions- funk, r & b, country.  I think they could do anything.  Why not go into that amazing Gothic chapel with great acoustics (see Wynonna Judd sing How Great Thou Art) after Wilson Phillips gets done with it and see what the new ladies can come up with and see what the veterans can do that's new?

Sugar Ray worked the crowd and sounds good in person.

The S.O.S. band brought me back to the realization that theirs is the type of music I really like.

Tiffany is a real singer too.  I think I was too old and jaded when she was a pop princess to be drawn in by her.  But now that I know she's a real singer I am impressed.  I loved her version of Call Me and think she has a great voice.  It's a good idea to do crowd-pleasers at a place like Epcot, and I'm anxious to see what she does next.  50s music?  70s inspired?  Sure 80s is a great fit, but let's see what else she comes up with. Her biggest hit is a re-working that she truly made her own.  What can she do with some other inspirations?

Jo Dee Messina was my discovery among discoveries this year.  What a voice, what a personality and what a songwriter.  What's in her next act, I don't know but "You go, girl."  The first night she said she had allergies.  You could hear it in her speaking voice but her singing was a-may-zing.  The next night she said she was plain sick.  If she sings like that when she's sick- and again, you could hear it only in the speaking voice....

Boyz II Men: I was looking forward to ya, but didn't get there in time to see much except the back of the standing room only crowd.  You sounded good at some points and I'm sure by the crowd reactions you brought many of them to their knees.

Chaka Khan:  What can I say?  We're destined to meet at another time.  Schedules clashed and although I wanted to, I just couldn't.  Perhaps you would have been too Every Woman for me to handle anyway.  But hopefully there's next year.

Thank you Walk Disney World for giving me more excuses to just be there, walk around the lake, walk over to Boardwalk, walk through the only World's Fair I've seen and eat to the beat in 2015.

Part of the Show

A show has two parts.

Either you're putting on the show or you're part of the audience.

Showmen try to blur the lines and do, but when I'm in an audience I want to sit and watch.

Do you remember when somebody would get in front of us, when we were children, and scream to the group "Good morning!" and no matter what the kids said or how they said it, the person up front would say "I can't hear you," trying to get the group of kids to scream louder?  My patience level was directly affected by how long they kept that up before getting to their subject.

It always bothered me, because I know they could hear us the first time.  And why do I want to sit and listen to somebody who is just going to lie to me?

Last night I was sitting in an audience, and some nice people had kindly set out about 100 chairs in a loose half circle facing the presenter.  I think before the people in the audience arrived, the setup looked nice and adequate.  But those who set up the chairs failed to think that most people attending are bigger around the middle than the space of a chair.  So once the audience started filling up, people were uncomfortably close to one another.  And it started to get hot.  An empty room is at one temperature, and then when it starts to fill up, with bodies crowded in, people started sweating.

A gentleman came over and sat to the left of me and his sleeve brushed mine.  I scooted a bit to the right. The gentleman to the right of me, one seat away, was breathing really loudly and shook my hand hard and way too long.  Again, I'm there to sit and watch, not actually do anything, like meet people.  His perception of being in the audience was different than mine.

The gentleman in front of me seemed to be translating every sentence to the person on his left.  He probably didn't think he was loud.  He wasn't that loud.  But he was speaking about 50 percent of the time while the presenter was speaking and every once in awhile he would turn to speak to the person on his right, who clearly didn't want to talk at all.  I'm pretty sure this bothered many of the people around him, but everyone is different and maybe some people didn't notice.  I wanted to pick him up and walk him outside the door, pick him up by his shirt collar and throw him down the hall.

I did not.


The other day, I was in an auditorium where the seats are bigger, and they are there all the time.  So we didn't have to rely on anyone's judgement that day of how close to seat the seats.  It's a comfortable room. But it's still an audience.  There were two ladies who came in my row and asked me if they could sit there on my right.  The one next to me shook my hand.  Instead of settling down to anonymous silence as I would with, both ladies agreed with the speaker, verbally and loudly, and often. They laughed and commented when there was a joke.  They almost yelled "Oh no!" when the speaker said something designed to make the audience pause.  They groaned in response to the speaker.  They made many verbal assents along with the speaker and one of the ladies was extremely loud.  The lady on my right didn't like it at all.  I don't know who could tell how much I didn't like it, but I tried to endure without giving any sign that I was cringing and having a difficult time concentrating.

The gentleman behind me started to laugh.  He didn't laugh the whole way through, and it didn't seem to be a response whenever the loud lady said anything.  But I figured in another mood I would be laughing so maybe that was why he was.  The loud lady stayed oblivious, as far as I could tell.  I think she lives there.  Her companion, the kind of loud lady, didn't like the fact that the man behind me was laughing.  Maybe she knows that the really loud lady is a nice lady and she's gotten used to her friend being very involved in any story she hears.  So she turned around and looked at him with a look of disapproval almost every time he laughed.  Yet, whenever her friend the loud oblivious lady did something, she would join in.

What I wonder is going through these people's minds?  There are people who can't hear well.  And they tend to speak loudly without knowing that they are.  And there are people who draw attention to themselves on purpose and people who don't realize it but catch almost every eye with their unkempt appearance, or quick gestures or something that stands out about them that they themselves are used to.  And attention itself is a funny thing.  Sometimes someone is doing everything they can to get you to notice and you just don't.

Obvious and oblivious are in the perception of each one of us.

When I give a show, I want people to watch and listen.  When I'm on the other side, in the audience, I want to watch and listen.  But some want to talk all through the movie and probably don't know they're doing it. Some want to provide feedback to the presentation whether there is a real person up there or it's just a screen.  I think about the people growing up with cameras with them at all times.  Taking a picture of something is a different way of apprehending it and so is writing about it.  There is an artifice to being in public and there is another layer of it when describing it.

What is it like to not remember a time when most people had cameras with them?

Some people are more aware of the feelings of those around them than others.  I stand in front of a crowd and see people who look so bored, who come up to me and tell me how great I did.  Did they not notice that I noticed that they kept looking at the clock?  Is it probable that they look at the clock when they're not bored?  Is it likely that if the show has a good end people remember it as being good all the way thorough?  

What was it like to know only about 25 people and to listen around the campfire?  Some campfire attendees were listening to the Iliad and some in other parts of a non-connected world had to settle for a recitation of how many berries somebody found and how many times Junior did something funny that day.  Some campfires had more than one storyteller and started a culture of it that got better and better.  And some people take pictures of what they had for lunch and share it with the world.

Quote from Bergman's Through A Glass Darkly

We draw a magic circle and shut out everything that doesn't agree with our secret games. Each time life breaks the circle, the games turn grey and ridiculous. Then we draw a new circle and build a new defense.

The State of the Church Today

Recently, it was Veteran's Day and I noticed a reticence on the part of some businesses to commemorate it. But at church, a wonderful singer, Sisaundra Lewis, sang the Star-spangled banner so beautifully that I had chill bumps.

There is nothing wrong with thanking veterans, whether or not we would have personally sent them to war or not.  There is nothing wrong with thanking those who are willing to do what I was not.  We don't have to all agree on everything to say thank you.  We don't all have to agree on anything to appreciate one another.

There may be a problem when politics and religion are too close.  But the real problem is that the church isn't enough like the church.  The real problem is that the world and the church are too close.  This is not the world's fault.  Somebody moved.  When you're not close to God, you know who it was that moved.

We who didn't join the military are kept safe by it; so obviously, one doesn't have to participate to benefit, so why should there be any hesitation to thank someone for doing what they think is right- even if I don't think it's right; or even when I do?

Likewise, we here all benefit from politics and taxes.  They don't spend the money the way I would, but I drive on the roads that are provided and use the water that is brought to my house and watch the entertainment and buy the products I choose to buy.  We participate in the world.  We are in the world and we don't think, like Baptists before us, that we should be away from the cities and away from the government and away from the things we don't like.  Somewhere along the way, we got to thinking that if we like it we should have it.

If I remember correctly, Clinton and Gore were both Baptists and no one was more unhappy about them winning than the Baptists.  It used to be that Baptists felt they should not be in the middle of everything. Most of them felt they should not hang out at court, if there was a king, or vote if that was an option.  Whatever government was in power was seen as something to submit to, but not participate in.  Give to Caesar what is his, but don't try to become one.

God is not in the war business.  And God is not in the politics business.  God has used war and politics in this world though, but I don't like the all or nothing thinking that whatever the military does is right or whatever the military does is wrong.  This thinking has recently come to light with the police.  We have a problem with authority in general, and this means we have a problem with God.

I am not saying that all police are right, or all parents are right or that all bosses are right.  What I am saying is that these authority figures are not automatically wrong.  And we should basically follow authority.  It's basic.  It's not absolute.  I know there are times when revolutions happened and good came out of them.  I know there are times when I quit a job rather than submit to a boss- but in general, I just don't want to do what somebody in authority tells me to do.  And this is wrong.  It probably is better to look for another job than to complain about your boss.  It's probably better to do anything or nothing than it is to complain.

In school, I would do whatever the teacher wanted in order to get a grade.  I even changed majors once because my teacher correctly pinpointed what it would take to get me to make that decision.  I felt I had no choice.  But I did have a choice.  I could have received the grade she threatened.  I could have taken it and rested in the knowledge that I earned it and then decided to work harder, or to change later when and if I wanted to change majors.  But I did something important, not for her and not for me; but for a letter on a piece of paper.  There is something about submission that I just don't like, but I was okay with it when I could earn an A.

Today, Dr. J. Vernon McGee addressed the issue of authority in the church from his pulpit at TTB.org.

If all the church officers of this country would simply read the pastoral epistles; 1st and 2nd Timothy and Titus, and see what God's requirements are for being an officer in the church, and just follow these simple requirements that are given there, over one half of the officers of this country would resign before next Sunday.  

The church'd be better off, and I think a revival would break out in many places.  

....Why don't we follow what the Word of God has to say?

...Little wonder the church is in the problem that it's in today.  No wonder it's filled with a bunch of babies sucking their thumb; crying loud and long unless they're given some attention and a rattle to play with and a yo-yo... and a yo-yo's appropriate for them; they're up and down on a string all the time.   

I think that I had little problem doing the things my parents wanted me to do that were understood but not spoken.  I took it for granted that I would live there with them and eat the food provided and wear the clothes provided.  I didn't fight them every step of the way, but I grumbled now and then.  I don't think my grumbling at that point in my life was very prevalent or even close to average.  I took it for granted that I would clean up whatever mess I made in the living room or kitchen- and that my room was allowed to be a big mess if I wanted it to be.  I don't think we ever discussed this.  There were things that they expected me to do, and that I did.  But if anybody ever tells me to do something, I think of 35 reasons why I don't want to do it, and 50 reasons why it should not be done.

The church is made up of me's.  (I can't stand that apostrophe at the end of me, but how else could I write it?  Mes?)

Genesis 1

Thanks to a series of CDs entitled Create Your World, by Patricia King, this time that I read Genesis 1, from the beginning of Oursler's The Greatest Book Ever Written- these were my impressions.


It's just great.  Some people see Genesis 1 as the first part of the Bible, which it is.  And I see it as a great introduction tacked on later to set the stage for some thoughts that were already written.  How do we write what is so awesome that it is beyond words?  Is the idea beyond the Word?  Of course it is.

I see Genesis 1 as instructions for what people are to do.  We're supposed to create.  And we're supposed to identify the good.  And right now that I'm so overwhelmed with a world of options that I do nothing, I'm supposed to divide and segregate the big wide world into my part in it.

God says things and they happen, but most of the story is dividing up everything into smaller bits until there is a focus on one man.


I also loved the fact that the definition of fruit is taken from this passage.

A fruit is something that has a seed in it.  An herb is something that needs a seed to grow.

Those scientists.  Don't they know that everything they do is just trying to explain Genesis 1?

Toynbee's Six Civilizations Without Precedents

On p. 48 and elsewhere in Somervell's abridgment of The Study of History, Toynbee states that of the 21 civilizations that are identifiable, in all of time (I love his willingness to say what he sees rather than to say, "Uh, I don't know.  The record is incomplete.")  six civilizations had no known antecedents.

He's going to go into the history of the Egyptiac, Sumeric, Minoan, Sinic (Yellow River in China), Mayan and Andean as civilizations that sprang up from nothing.  And only the Egyptian had no descendants.  Is this why I love Egypt?


A word about adjectives.  Why can't we just say either Egyptiac or Egyptian?  Is there a difference?

I hate when people say Mosaic meaning pertaining to Moses.  Mosaics are already something else, so let's not drag art into the study of Bible, history or civilization- thank you very much.

 

The Study of History

An event enters "history" when it is recorded.  But there may be multiple, and competing, histories; as there are multiple. and competing, eyewitness accounts.

Joyce Carol Oates  The Accursed

          And -

The historian is not so puzzled, for this is commonplace in history, that afterward, witnesses disagreed about what had happened, or what they had believed happened             p. 625

p. 455 footnote
It is not the historian's strategy to keep his reader in any sort of cheap suspense, for history is past; so I see no reason not to reveal to the reader... the outcome.




I'm reading an abridgment of Arnold J. Toynbee's A Study of History by D.C. Somervell.  This work uses definitions and identifies its methodologies, and some suppositions.  How nice it would be if every book would start out by presenting the author's suppositions.  Authors don't generally want to admit that they have them, and the ones they know of tend to be a very small percentage of the ones they have.... but I digress.

On page 45-46, it's mentioned that the only difference between the genres of History, Science, and Fiction is that fiction can be drawn from innumerable data.  I love this admission.  History and science include everything that's happened!  Well, we can't write that, much less read that.  Other than that, the techniques are the same whether someone admits it or knows that.  The author decides what to write about, and what to include in that tale.  And it is a tale.  Some authors know what the story is, and some ramble, but maybe the difference between science and history can be seen as the difference between the book and its movie.

It struck me recently that science needs to be repeatable.  But despite all the fiction and physics about time being fluid, isn't it the one thing that isn't repeatable therefore nothing is?  What I mean, is the variables in an experiment can all be repeated in a laboratory, but they really aren't repeated to the last detail.  But time is a huge detail, and the first time the apple fell on Newton can only happen once.

 

Notes On The Preface: Fulton Oursler's The Greatest Book Ever Written

The cover got me.

There's an angry Moses in the top left corner, and the title of the book is pretty largely written on a commandment tablet that he's gripping with both hands.

Then there are the debauched crowd antics below.  If you ever want to catch my eye, show me something reminiscent of those Sunday School illustrations- women with veils and scandalous dancing caught in mid-step.  Apparently there were bikinis in ancient times.  Just look at Jeannie.

I'm not familiar with Fulton Oursler, but I look forward to reading another version of a story I've become familiar with.  

The preface states

The Holy Bible is still the best-selling book of all time and in all countries, yet surprisingly few of the new generation seem to be familiar with its contents.

I'm reminded of something I say in Internet classes, attempting to explain the new world we're in to people my age and older.  I say, adding that I'm speaking facetiously, that the best way to hide something today is just to put it on the Internet.  It's just so overwhelming; the amount of information out there for everyone to see.  And this has happened before in our culture.  Think of Bibles in every home but sitting there, dusty and unread.


A few months ago, when I was reading about Gutenberg, I was surprised that his goal was the Bible, not that the Bible was what he happened to print.  His wasn't a mercenary mission.  He wanted to get the Word out, and he did.  The word Bible obscures the obvious.  To many, this was the book; as in the only one.  Now it's a paperback, thrown away in a bin, sold by the pound.

There's A Scene

in Before Night Falls, where Javier Bardem walks out of the prison in a way that made me think of freedom as a byproduct of self-actualization.

The movie is a little dreamy.  I especially like the images of trees and sky and that sometimes it's not obvious if we're watching what happened or what the protagonist remembers and invents poetically.

Walking around quietly, the character easily slips through his captors' clutches with no one noticing.  He's scared, and he tries to be sneaky and then fast, and then frantically escapes.  But what I got from the scene is that there's nothing really keeping him in prison at that point.  Nobody follows him out of the holding cell, but everyone could have.  He lets himself out of a prison of his own making.

Sure he's scared.  But no one else notices, or follows.  He just let himself out.  He's the only one involved and it's all up to him, whether to relax, leave, run or dash into exile.

Thanks IMDB

It's great to be able to see who played which part and to follow an actor, or director, or writer.

I especially like the "credited with" feature so I can easily catch up with a duo if I've liked them together in something.

Love That Chicken at Popeyes

First of all, there is an ambiguous use of the apostrophe in their logo.  And I think I don't like orange.  But Popeyes has me.

The first time I had fried chicken, I probably liked it.  But who knows.  Today I think that it may be the best taste on earth.  Do you think I'm overselling this?  Imagine if there weren't any fried things, and we had the wherewithall to show a little restraint, or maybe the government decided to do that for us; but either way, a bite of fried chicken was all that was available at any one time.  People would be lining up for their daily hit of this stuff and whoever sold it could charge quite a bit.

Would the government take their cut and control the supply?

If so, would it be a legal or illegal operation?

I once heard Chelsea Handler say that we should know better.  She said that when someone eats fried chicken, they actually know deep down inside that they shouldn't be eating it.  I suppose the idea is that if something is so good, it has to be bad.  That's a strong idea in our culture, but it doesn't stop anything from being sold.  I think it increases consumption.  Nobody ever says "Hey, man, try this broccoli.  I'll give you a taste.  Go on.  Everybody's doing it."  Maybe that idea is why soda and dessert are so popular, and sex is so misappropriated; ambiguously and simultaneously celebrated and maligned.  Smoking and drinking have probably benefited from this idea as well.  But the idea of vice is so old, it's hard to tell.  Can we imagine a world where people didn't feel as if they should go after and/or resist what they want?  We accept animals doing what they want, and consider that innocence or instinct, as if something so simple could be both.  But people are supposed to decide, and then act or hold back.  Doing what you want can be courageous, evil, morally neutral, despicable, or just a matter of taste.  It can be interpreted as the one defining characteristic of a person's life or a minor detail unworthy of comment.

The first time I ate Popeyes was at a restaurant on Sand Lake Road and International Drive in Orlando.  I was very familiar with the character of Popeye, and surprised that the place didn't serve spinach.  And I had no idea that I would be living and working very close to that store for years, later on.  We were on a high school trip to Disney World and the bus stopped in a parking lot between Burger King and Popeyes.  There was a small amusement park there also, and our instructions were to eat at one of those restaurants and then meet up at a certain time later inside the park, which boasted arcade games and a Ferris wheel.

Today, I ate at another Popeyes, and the manager Samuel saw me coming and started getting my order ready before I even gave it.  I suppose you can tell that I could tell that he could tell he'd seen me before.  I came to the conclusion that the spicy chicken at Popeyes was the best single taste on earth when there was a show on television that involved putting something on a spoon and the judges judged it just by taste and how it looked sitting there on the spoon.  They didn't know what the taste was, and were supposed to be more authentic in their judgement; also not knowing who cooked what.  I was out of work, and drinking a lot of water.  I was held hostage by the idea that water is good and salt is bad, and I didn't have much money or much to do.  So I was drinking a lot of water.  I later realized that the level of salt and water needs to be within a certain range for life to continue.  Thankfully I figured this out before I did any additional damage to myself for such a stupid reason.  At the time, I was craving salt.  And Popeyes filled the bill magnificently.

One day it occurred to me that if fried chicken didn't look like it does, and wasn't presented how it is, that a boutique restaurant could charge a fortune for it.  Put that same flavor on a smaller plate with a mixture of colors and an expensive entree would be born that people would line the block for- if they didn't know they could already get it at Popeyes on the corner for a couple bucks.

Thanks Popeyes for saving my life when I was drinking too much water.  And thanks for the deal on the back of the receipt that made it possible, even for someone with little funds at the time.

I still wish you had spinach.

 

Conspiracy Theorists

A lady I've seen a few times at work told me that there is only one explanation for the fact that there are two sets of water pipes under each house.  Clearly, the government is going to kill us all.

She says she knows this because governments lie.  Look at the Kennedy assassination cover-up.  Look at 9/11.


I don't know anything about plumbing.  But I think she is right that governments lie.  Of course governments lie.  You know why?  Because governments are made up of people.

People do what they think they have to do.  And after they feel that they've done that, people do what they think they can get away with.  After that, they might occasionally do the right thing.  But everybody is looking out for number one, even if they are looking out for everybody else.  If they're looking out for everybody else, it's because they think that's what they have to do, or they don't think they can get away without doing that.  Or, you've caught them at a time when they are actually willing to do the right thing.  Everybody does the right thing some time.

Just now I heard about a proposed smoking pan for public housing.  This makes me angry.  I hate the smell of smoke.  But how can a government keep people from doing something that is legal?  Things should be legal or they should be illegal.

For some reason, the word limit now means recommended minimum- when it comes to speed limits.  People all over the world break this law every single day.  I don't like speed limits.  But I think things should be either legal or illegal.  A 45 mile an hour speed limit shouldn't really mean that everybody should go at least 45.  But I think that's what it means to most people.

There are laws on the books against all sorts of things.  I don't understand a law when I read it, and I don't believe that legislators do either.  And they don't always read them.

A government should be about trying to do what's best for most of the people.  Who would benefit if pipes under our houses were filled with poison?  I'm not sure.  Don't the people in power need the people who aren't in power to pay their salaries, earn money for them, buy stuff from them and so forth?

I've heard that there are plans to poison the people with fluoride and various carcinogens.  And I've heard that pharmaceutical companies are in business to make more customers, not to cure them.  And it is very curious that a product filled with sugar, made up of many ingredients from around the world that were shipped and processed beyond recognition, then packed and shipped again around the world can be more expensive than something grown and merely shipped to the closest market.  But I've heard many things.  I guess there might be one group of people who want the poor to smoke- maybe those who own tobacco stocks- and one group who wants them to not smoke.  Maybe there's a group of people who profit from prisons and they think that illegal smoking in one's home would be a real easy way to fill up some more prisons.  Then there are the race baiters who want there to be a race war.

Who are these people?

And does each group know about the other?

I once was offended when someone told me that the Church had kept people from learning to read for hundreds of years.  I was taught that those hardworking scholars kept literacy alive.  But what's the difference?

I don't picture peasants banging on monastery doors demanding the knowledge of writing.  But I don't picture the issues people are up in arms about today as being the most important ones of our time, either.


Yes, there are people that want to come and take your guns.  There are also people who want to sell everyone guns.  And there is probably somebody who wants to give one out with every birth certificate.  We let so many people drive cars.  Those could certainly be effective weapons.  Every once in awhile somebody uses car crash statistics to tell us that something is really safer than it seems.  But I've yet heard anybody say that the oil industry is set up to keep the population down by providing traffic fatalities.  Hmmm.... I may be on to something.

Notes on Josephine Hart's The Stillest Day

I had no idea that an architect mentioned in Josephine's little fable was a real figure.  What a great name: Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin.  I assumed she made it up to illustrate the layers of thought upon which the world of her story, like ours, is built.

There's the foundation of it, formed by Augustus- which once seemed so formal and stable.  The mighty empire- that was Rome and is now the West- was actually our veneer, not a solid base, but at the bottom of the whole thing like a carpet one rests the furniture upon.  It is really Greek thought seen through the eyes of Roman respectability tempered by Medieval piety distorted by looking back and calling it Christendom; having nothing whatever to do with Christ.  

Then there's Welby.  To some, that's the respectable doctor.  To others it's clearly a name that says London, rather than Londinium.  As a new Rome, and certainly not Constantinople- an errant excursion to the Orient takes you there...    you'd be better off near London.  Oversee the heathens you rule over from good 'ole jolly England.

Northmore- well, it's North- cold, covered in the hides of animals and protected from the dangerous sun of the tropic south where flesh is revealed outside of the bath where one keeps a towel on.  And it's more. Winter is here, where it should be.  Things are as they are.  After all, it has always been thus.  Or has it?

And then there's Pugin.  To me it sounds as dangerous as the flesh colored salmon; which is only okay for others, but not for oneself.

My Little Trump Tower

I was listening at TTB.org today, and catching up on yesterday's content.

Politics is making the rounds of casual conversation, since we are in debate season.  Two colleagues had actually listened to all that blather recently, or wanted to, but I can't watch it.  It makes me ill to hear people talk so much and say so little.  I can't stand being told that someone cares for our country when it's so obvious that they only care about themselves.  And last night I actually dreamed of Trump.  He wasn't in my dream, but I was so excited to go to his house.

In my dream, we received invitations to see the house that I've wanted to see since childhood, and there was an image of it on the envelopes and the invitation inside.  And in indisputable dream logic, I knew that if we returned our responses and accepted the invites we'd get back some golden ones, to keep as keepsakes forever and ever, and then be able to see the mansion itself.

We walked through the front door, and were shown in and ushered off to the left to see what we were told was Trump's room.  I was vaguely interested to see how he lived; much more interested in the mansion itself, and walked around what was actually his three-room suite which was so ordinary it could have been part of a duplex or motel room.  Everything was freshly painted grey or beige and looked as spartan and antiseptic as a mid-grade apartment a Realtor is showing you while smiling wanly.

Growing up across from Palm Beach, we would drive along the beach and look at the water on one side and the Mar-a-Lago tower and gates on the other.  Sometimes the gates were open, but I never got a good look at the house and I've also wanted to always see inside, and go up inside the tower and look out over the grounds and the ocean.

I've seen images of inside but only the gates and the tower show very well from the road.  I always liked the idea that up off the ground there are two statues of men pulling the gates open, and I wanted to see if they moved when the gates closed.  They were an interesting version of those ridiculous lawn jockeys that other poorer people used to mark their entrances.

When Trump bought it, I was a little surprised, because the home represented to me old money, and I didn't think of him in that way, but as nouveau riche; even though he, Saddam Hussein and Marjorie Merriweather Post could have shared a decorator.  But in the land of sound bytes, 30 years ago is old so he might be seen even as olde money now; having been rich for decades.

People see Trump as an outsider.  But I don't.  Politics and media and tv and everybody following make up a system in which he is a character.  But so are all the politicians.  Having been gone for years, J. Vernon said that the media brainwashes, whether it was behind the Iron Curtain or not.  "If you look at Washington today, you'll feel like giving up, or throwing up."  Boy do I ever.  I wonder what McGee would say today.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the panel discussions of politicians, educators, military and athletes and the movie colony.  I don't think they have any message for us right now.  Perhaps you can hear the still small voice of God."

The problem with Christians is that they are confused when the laws of the land don't follow what they believe.  That's because we're all in the world and we don't want to have to work to not be of it.  I'm sure the world will turn out differently depending upon whom we elect to lead the United States.  But I don't think any of them will make it better.  We know Who to turn to if we want peace or justice or prosperity or true freedom.